


In The End

by CapyWritesShit



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crying, Edmund "Ned" Chicane Centric, Hospitals, Lots of tears, Mentions of Death, Not Beta Read, OH YEAH EPISODE 28 SPOILERS, The last two are really only mentioned, also its only rated t because of strong language so, aubrey is sad, bullet wounds, i think i mention leo like once? i dont remember, i wrote this at 3am in a depressed stupor because i needed ned to be alive, if yall can think of anything else to tag hmu, mama cries, ned doesnt know whats going on, ned lives yall, theres also a few ocs but theyre also only mentioned, uh how do i tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19068940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapyWritesShit/pseuds/CapyWritesShit
Summary: TAZ AMNESTY EP 28 SPOILERS!!!There is so much you’re putting on hold, just for this moment, because despite the ringing in your ears, the pounding of your head, the phantom ache in your back, there is a single thought running through your mind right now; how the fuck am I alive?





	In The End

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i was sad like everyone who listened to ep 28 so i wrote this to cope
> 
> yall duck doesnt know ned is gone
> 
> DUCK DOESNT KNOW IM—

Your brain is pounding rhythmically against your skull. There is the loudest beeping noise right beside your ear, screaming at you, supposedly alerting you of…something, though you aren’t sure yet. You can’t exactly feel—anything, not yet at least. You can’t see anything, either, because when you try to open your eyes you’re met with blinding light, and you know you just aren’t ready to adjust and take in your surroundings quite yet. There is so much you’re putting on hold, just for this moment, because despite the ringing in your ears, the pounding of your head, the phantom ache in your back, there is a single thought running through your mind right now; _how the fuck am I alive?_

 

* * *

 

It’s been days, probably, since you last had consciousness. The beeping is still steady in your ears, the ache still present in your back, pain still striking in your head, but this time, you’ve opened your eyes.

They won’t let anyone see you. They told you it’s because they want you to be stable, to be sure the gunshot trauma didn’t somehow give you PTSD. Crazy, the idea that dancing with death can do that to someone. Regardless, you protest. They’re trained professionals, you know this, but you haven’t seen your ~~family~~ friends in a long fucking time. The last thing you remember are the stars. _Oh, the stars._ They were poetically beautiful and you had been so sure that it was the last thing you would ever see.

You’re in a hospital. That much is clear, what with the gown and the bed and the equipment. You also have a private room, because of the severity of your wound they had told you. You have a suspicion it’s also because of your impact on _recent events_ involving _certain Sylphs_  and _certain archways_. Also because, yes, you had been shot in the fucking back. Or so you’ve been told.

Your mind has been on blast since you’ve woken up again, though most of your concerns are stemming from one specific person. You had asked the nurse checking on you when you woke up if he had been around for the archway riot. He said yes, although somewhat hesitantly, and you asked if he knew what had happened to the blonde girl you took a bullet for. He said some stuttered mess about the big man (probably Barclay) taking her away. You assume she’s alright now, if Barclay got her to the lodge. You’re just glad she wasn’t the one shot.

On that topic, however, you still aren’t quite sure how you’ve survived an actual bullet through the back. You don’t know who shot it. You don’t know how the situation was diffused, if it was at all. You have no earthly idea how Mama or Barclay or God forbid Aubrey or Duck reacted to your not-death. You’d like to think they at least mourned you, though you hope, somewhere in the deep recesses of your torn-up heart, that Aubrey didn’t. You kind of hope that she still hates you. You deserve it.

You’ve asked the nurses that come and go, the doctor that had you under her care, the aides that show up occasionally to check on you. You have asked every single one of them, and none have provided you with a straight answer.

_How the fuck am I alive?_

They all skirt around the issue, which only makes you more suspicious, but for the time being you can only somewhat bring yourself to care, and not even with all your energy. You’ve been focused on just staying awake.

But sleep is so comforting, so tempting, so you close your eyes for just a bit…

 

* * *

 

The next time you awaken, there’s a woman at the foot of you bed. You recognize her immediately. It’s Mama, dressed in her usual drab, and she looks awful. Eyebags that sink deep into her skull, hair so sullied and played with and pulled at you’re afraid she may go bald if she keeps it up, worried at lips torn to shreds. Her arms encase her body whole, as if trying to comfort herself, and—and she’s crying, she’s shedding real tears that dribble down her cheeks and off her chin. She’s muttering, and you’re not sure whether or not it’s aimed at you or just for herself, but it’s a little frantic and a lot anguished. You hear key phrases, _I’m sorry_ , _never should’ve happened_ , _so brave_ , but nothing ever fits together because she’s speaking so quietly, so fast. You keep your eyes shut because you know you aren’t supposed to see this.

You drift off with Mama at the foot of your bed, crying and talking to herself, and you know as soon as you wake up again there’s going to be a lot of explaining on both ends.

 

* * *

 

Aubrey’s hand is in your right hand while your left remains tucked against your stomach. The thick stench of hospital soup wafts through the air. The incessant beeping of your heart monitor does wonders to push you that final step into full consciousness. Duck is sitting beside her, eyes downcast and face clearly distraught. Neither say a word. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

Aubrey speaks once your eyes meet, once she sees you open your mouth, an apology on your lips.

“I’m so, so, _so fucking sorry_.”

There are tears in her eyes, her _bright orange eyes what the hell_ , and you know in that moment that she doesn’t hate you, and is it crazy that it hurts? Duck’s head snaps up, mouth agape, and suddenly he’s spewing some shit about how his mentor from space that had been astral projecting to him up until this point is now corporeal and at his place with Leo, and how he destroyed a monster at the telescope. Aubrey overlaps with stories about the near war with Sylvain. Nobody says a word about what happened before or how you’re still alive, but you aren’t curious and unsure anymore. You know it was her.

Of course it was her.

Eventually, you’re going to have to work everything out with them. There’s still so much unsaid, still so much that digs deep for all of you, but right now? Right now you laugh with Duck, you squeeze Aubrey’s hand, you accept when Barclay comes in and offers you cookies. You smile and Dani as she tearfully thanks you, you nod in thanks to Mama, and she knows you heard her, but it remains unsaid. You grin and you tell the truth like you never have before and you live.

Because right now you’re alive and man, _that is enough_. Ned Fucking Chicane is _alive_ , baby.

**Author's Note:**

> n e ways...
> 
> thanks for reading! sorry i just had to get my emotions out of my system so this is what happened. hope yall enjoyed, im just really sad about recent events so,,,
> 
> this is also set like after the "war" if you couldnt tell so theres that
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated, thank you again!


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